


Beg

by newtandthediamonds



Series: Lay All Your Love On Me [1]
Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aftercare, Begging, Bill is low-key dominant here, Established Relationship, Ethusiastic Consent, F/M, Implied Oral Sex, Love Bites, Mirror Sex, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, an obscene amount of orgasms, implied fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 04:12:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17297534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newtandthediamonds/pseuds/newtandthediamonds
Summary: After a busy month apart, Bill and Y/N spend a day alone together and can get enough of each other.





	Beg

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this, I'd greatly appreciate it if you leave a comment or kudos below! Thank you for reading.

Let's just say that Bill and Y/N have been a little touch-starved for the last month. They've had a few rendezvous here or there; quickies when they had a few good moments to themselves when they weren't busy with work or school. But it hasn't been nearly enough to satiate either of their sex drives, especially Bill, who's been so desperate with need that he's sometimes dreaming of her.

His teeth nip roughly at her bare breasts, her torso entirely naked while the rest of her is clothed, and he nudges her back farther into the couch cushions she's already pressed against. The sensitive, tender skin bruises easily under the bite of his teeth.

For the first time in a while, they've had a day to themselves and the apartment is free of their friends that always like to show up unannounced, who, more often than not, tend to cut moments like these short. But today, no one is here to get in the way of their affections and they've taken advantage of every second of it. He already took her on the kitchen table in the middle of breakfast and ended up fucking her into the table hard enough to send his plate of food falling to the ground to shatter into pieces. Just thinking about that makes his hips jerk forward involuntarily. Then, an hour or two later, they were in the middle of watching a movie on the couch when they decided it would be interesting to see how many times he could make her come in a row. (Four times. Once with his face buried between her thighs, another time with his fingers alone, third by only dry humping, and fourth with a lazy bout of fucking with her bent over the arm of the couch. After the fourth time, he knew she was too sensitive to even try for a fifth without expecting to see her to break into tears from the overstimulation.)

It took much longer after their session on the couch before either of them were even ready for more-not that they didn't want it. But now, a good few hours since what happened with him on the couch, Y/N finally yanked him close again, no doubt signing up for the soreness of a lifetime come tomorrow.

Her body trembles with the effort to stay on her knees, tired muscles overworked from nearly half a day of contracting and spasming and holding positions with him. It isn't until his hand start to glide down from where they rest at her waist to her shaking thighs that he realizes this.

Bill pulls back from her bruised chest with kiss-swollen lips and looks her in the eye with deep concern.

"You're s-s-shaking," He hooks his hands under her legs and pulls her into his lap rather than keeping her up on her knees, "Do you need to stop? You can barely hold yourself up, Y/N..."

It's tempting. She has to admit that the exhaustion is terribly tempting but the need, her burning desire is worse. And they've definitely been pushed much closer to exhaustion and been much weaker when they've been in bed together before. It seems that all she can think of is him right now. He surrounds her, fills her senses and overtakes them and all she can think about is feeling him inside of her. The overstimulation, which they've clearly realized in a kink they share with both giving and receiving, is nearly addictive. There's something about being brought to the brink of they ecstasy over and over again, nearly crying and begging for it, that drives her wild. Five times, he's brought her to that brink today. She wants it to be six.

"I'm okay," Y/N confirms though she's sure that saying she's a simple 'okay' won't be enough for someone who likes to fuss.

The building pleasure is put on pause as he keeps her cradled in his lap, making sure that she's entirely relaxed her body while he keeps her held up. What he's learned on days like these, when they go at it for practically hours at a time until at some point the sun has set and they end up just passing out, is that no matter what she asks for he has to hold at least a bit of his natural hesitancy if she seems like she's physically or mentally not up for it. Because she always does the same for him. Because she always takes care of him like he does her.

He opens his mouth to speak but she does it first.

"I mean it, I'm okay. I know you're worried and as sweet as it is, I'm alright, if I weren't I wouldn't be doing this."

Bill nods softly, his eyes following her small smile while he massages her thighs in languid circles. He's still hunched over slightly from early when he'd been paying a glorious amount of attention to her breasts, but is sat straight up enough to be level with her neck. He leans forward and presses his face into the crook of her neck, savoring the warmth he finds against his lips as he starts to speak again.

"If you w-want to stop, at any point, even if we're in the middle of it, if you want to stop at all, tell me. You should never feel bad about s-saying no," He states firmly.

Y/N grips his face in her hands, pulling him from her neck so that he can look her in the eye. She says, "I'm not saying no, I'm asking you for something here and you're fussing."

She's sure she's already bruised from how hard they'd gone on the kitchen table this morning since she can feel the pain of where his hips hit her's every time she moves, but that doesn't stop her from wanting-needing-more. Sometimes they can go a few weeks without ever truly needing to be physically regardless of if they do end up having sex or not. In those times all they really need is each others' company, a conversation that runs long into the night until they can barely keep their eyes from shutting. But in times like these, when the desire is so entirely crushing, they can barely keep from pouncing on each other.

He sits up straighter now, still keeping a tight grip on her thighs to monitor the trembling and to see if she's still struggling to keep herself upright. His eyes are a bit less soft when they stare into her's this time.

"What is it that you w-want?"

Y/N throws a pointed glance at the wall to their left, the obvious look saying more than enough.

"Use words please, if it involves the wall I'll be more than h-happy to help." He whispers, fighting a smile.

Her chest falls with a heavy sigh and she has to keep herself from rolling her eyes at his shit-eating grin. Other than the fact that he's wanting to get the most enthusiastic consent he can possibly get from her, but he also is eager to hear her say exactly what she wants from him. His stomach goes light as air the the memory of all they've done today; her fingers running through his hair, tugging whenever he made a particularly knee-weakening lick to her core. He can still feel her on him, like a phantom clinging to his skin and possessing him. He still feels her skin beneath his hands from when he bent her over the arm of the couch. Her moans, the sound of her calling out his name, and the way she felt around him. All of it rushes through his mind.

His body goes still when her lips brush his. And she takes her sweet time in kissing him for as long as she pleases, only stopping once she's decided he's had enough. Her lips, slick with both of their saliva, move against his when she mutters, "I want you..." A hint of a whimper in the back of her throat, "I want you to fuck me. As hard as you can against that wall. I need you to."

And with that, he already feels himself start to harden more and holds back his own moan at her words. All he hears is the sound of her voice telling him, _'I want you to fuck me',_  over and over again. It's something he can't help but fixate on. There's nothing more he could want than to carry her over to that wall and give in to every wish and whisper of what she asks him to do to her, but still, he worries. She's had five orgasms today,  _five_ , and he doesn't even know if she can take another.

Her breath hitches in her throat when he starts to sit up on his knees and halts midway as if keeping himself at bay. His breath is hot on her neck.

"Yu-You're sure?"

All she does in hum in response, impatient. But he doesn't do anything other than hold her to him right where they are and doesn't make a move for the waistband of her jeans though every instinct he has begs him to rip the fabric off of her.

The tone of his voice is stern and the sound of it makes her abdomen tense in anticipation, "I nuh-need to hear you say yes."

Her eyes narrow slightly in curiosity at how he could possibly think that she'd be lying about wanting him right now. She's been pressured by guys before she'd been with him and it took a few times before she grew the good sense to learn how to say no, because believe it or not, she once wasn't wise enough to know that she could. Girls are raised on the idea that they were made to please and that they're a tease for saying no. Growing up on this, this terrifying view of what consent is, she didn't know it was right to decline. And since Bill practically has a hard-on for hearing her say what she wants, hearing what she's okay with, and hearing yeses and no's, she found very quickly that it had never been a problem with her but with the previous men she'd been with for never asking.

The gentleness that he procures despite the clear desperation he's in, the eagerness to get to what they both want most, makes her have to sigh in appreciation.

She takes his face in her hands once more and kisses her way to his ear, letting her teeth nip softly at his earlobe before she finally says, "Yes."

Y/N lets out a yelp at how swiftly he manages to unbutton then yank her jeans and panties down her legs, shifting their position only so that he can get the clothes off as fast as he can. They stay on the couch for only a moment, the moment that she takes, ever so slowly removing his clothes. Though it's a somewhat normal pace that she uses in getting his sweatpants off of him, to him it feels like slow-motion and he beings to get increasingly antsy to get inside of her.

Once the damned garments, at last, hit the floor in a pile beside him, he hoists her up. Bill's hands slip underneath her legs and he hums in satisfaction at the way they wrap around him on instinct alone. They're at the wall in an instant, her giggling at his impatience starting to die off as he moves to kiss her.

Their lips collide the moment her back hits the wall. His hands remain where they are, holding her to him by the backs of her thighs and opting against bracing a hand on the wall since he doesn't want her, already weak from their antics today, to have to lift a finger. He wants her to not worry about anything but the pleasure he gives her. The kiss is deep and consuming and no matter how hard they kiss, no matter how passionate it is, they want more. Her mouth opens to him at the feeling of his tongue prodding at her lower lip and he takes full advantage of this. Kissing, of all the physical things they do, is one of his personal favorites. He likes different kinds of kissing, like how telling it can be of how someone is feeling, of how aroused they are. Sometimes, their kisses are slow, lazy, and last for what feels like hours. Other times they're quick, like a habit, on his way out the door for his morning class. This kind of kiss specifically, is a rare favorite of his. It's the way he can feel her want for him, the unending passion and love, as their mouths and tongues move together urgently. It's the kind of kiss he can feel in every nerve ending of his body.

Her breaths come out in pants when he pulls back slightly, settling for a slower tempo than the one they'd set since he intends on making this last for them.

"Y-Y-, " He stutters out when her hand trails farther from where it had rested at his lower abdomen, "Y-Y/N..."

The light in the room is lower than usual, safe for the lit fireplace and end table lamp they'd switched on when they'd finished on the couch a few hours ago. So, thankfully, they can see each other perfectly. They've never been in favor of having the lights too low when they've been in bed together, or on the kitchen table together in today's case. They like to see each other and watch one another's faces. To her, it'd be a crime not to be able to see him when he climaxes. The noises alone are enough, but seeing his face along with the soft moans and gasps, never fails to send her over the edge with him. And for him, what he loves most about being able to see her is watching her eyes; whether they're heavy with lust or quite literally rolling into the back of her head in reaction to him, he loves it.

Bill starts to breathe heavily when she wraps a hand around him. Though he's not nearly as overstimulated and sensitive as she is, the touch still makes him shudder. Twice. She's made him come twice today and soon he'll get the third. If he weren't the least bit hypersensitive to pleasure at this point, there'd be something wrong with him. The moment she guides him into her, he loses any sense of that hesitancy he'd had early and lets the feeling of her, hot and wet and beautifully tight around him, overtake his body.

 _I want you to fuck me_ , he recalls her words as he buries himself in her inch by inch.  _As hard as you can against that wall_. He's deeply seated in her and gives his love a moment to catch her breath.  _I need you to_.

He starts out slow at first, merciful compared to what he has in store for her, and bites back the urge to unleash the unhinged kind of fucking that's to come. Their loud, still-panting breaths fill up the room around them, the sound of their bodies meeting soft and near silent for now. Her body presses against his perfectly, full breasts flush against his chest while he makes slow movement inside of her and gently rocks her body into the wall. His topaz eyes fall from where they'd been fixed on her face to watch the way her body moves in tempo with his. The way her stomach wavers, tenses, in reaction to him filling her up thrust by slow thrust, makes him moan into his closed mouth. The sight of her naked body alone is enough to weaken him in the knees, let alone the sight of her body, slick with a barely-there layer of glistening sweat and her skin flushed color.

"Y-Yu-You o-oh-okay?" Bill asks.

For a long time, he kept from talking during sex in fear of his stutter inevitably worsening. It took months of softly spoken commands and questions and moans of her name before he became as comfortable with it as he is now. Y/N grips him tightly by his shoulders and digs into his skin with her fingernails in response.  _Stop taking it easy on me_. The way she whines in need only adds to the action that urges him to give her what she asked. It's like there's this barrier between her and the pleasure she knows will be waiting for her. She wants him to stop taking it slow, make it even harder than they'd gone on the kitchen table.

"If you want it you're going to have to a-ask," He says, that familiar hard-edge to his voice that he's used earlier adding to the bliss that she feels.

She presses her lips together firmly, defiantly.  _I already asked_. It seems to her that he doesn't really want her to ask, he wants something more. And just to prove how serious he is, he goes completely still, stopping any and all movement and stares her down. The room suddenly becomes too hot, too small, and she tries with all of her might to not writhe to get at least some kind of friction. His hands grip her hips hard enough to keep them from moving.

And then as if it weren't enough to ask her to tell him again, to tell him to fuck her as hard as he can, he whispers into the soft skin of her jaw, "Beg."

Goosebumps raise in wake of where his breath spreads down her neck. The word gave her chills. He wants her to beg for it, not ask. He wants to hear her whine and ask and beg for him to do what she wants. Y/N knows that despite any needs of his, he can be infuriating patient. He'd stay here, still as a statue inside of her, for hours if he had to. One time, when they'd decided to try out something new, he ended up tied to their bed, being teased endlessly by her. When the tables had turned and she'd been the one tied to the headboard, he didn't lay a finger on her, no matter how much he was dying to, while he touched himself. She was begging for him that night too. What she got for her efforts was being edged on the entire rest of the night, which ended in an earth-shattering orgasm on both sides when he finally stopped pulling back from that peak and let them both go over.

Usually, he's gentle and sweet. Usually, he prefers making love to her. But if she wants it, he's more than happy to get a little rough.

She knows from experience, that not doing anything will get her nowhere. So, keeping this in mind, she lets all of her frustration and need come to the surface, "Please," the word comes out as little more than an inaudible moan, "Please, Bill, " her back raises off the wall in an effort to get his hands from her hips, "fuck me like you mean i-"

The skin on her back burns from hitting against the wall so hard.

Bill gives in to the temptation, not strong enough to resist what she'd said to him, the filthy thing she'd said. The pace is brutal as he lets that crushing desire unleash and run rampant through him. And now, the sound of their hips slamming together drowns out any sounds outside of the apartment, even overshadowing their moans. Her head rolls back and hits the wall in time with his unrelenting thrusts, too fast to count and harder than she ever even knew he was capable of. It's so like him to hesitate, to worry so much that even when she'd asked before he hadn't done it as much as he possibly could. But right now, he's hitting a spot so deep in her that black spots blur her vision.

Every piece of pleasure he gives her melds into one, from his lips sucking and his teeth nipping at her collarbone to the untouchable feeling of him repeatedly finding home deeper inside of her with every time he slams his hips up against her own.

"Look," He mutters into the love bite he's so diligently sucking into her skin, "The muh-m-m-mirror."

She hadn't thought or it, nor had she even noticed or remembered where it was until he spoke up. There's a full body mirror propped up against the wall across from where they are. They'd bought it around the same time they moved in together since they needed something to make the living room/kitchen area look less bland. The reason she hadn't bothered to notice it is because she never uses it anyway. If she needs to do anything that requires a mirror, the bathroom suffices just fine. Rarely does she even need to look at her outfit badly enough to need the oversized decoration. But now...

Y/N almost comes right there when her eyes find their reflection, she certainly does tighten around him though, her muscles tensing in response to such a spike in her ecstasy. The sight is...indescribable. Getting to see and feel everything all at once drives her wild. Because she drapes her hands over his shoulders and watches as well as feels every muscle of his back flex with the merciless thrusts that send her body against the wall so roughly that she's surprised they haven't broken it. She watches every part of him move in awe and admiration, she watched him fuck her into the wall so hard that the sound of their bodies pounding relentlessly against the wall will probably end in noise complaints and angry neighbors. But right now, she doesn't care. Right now, she watches how beautifully their bodies merge and rut and fuck that nothing else could possibly matter. All that exists is her lover, giving her everything he's got, giving her the unending world of euphoria that she begged for.

Her orgasm ravages her in a blinding waves of white, her eyes screwed shut and her head tilted back as she opens her mouth in a silent scream. Suddenly, nothing exists other than this peak, this atomic explosion of every wonderful feeling possible to have. She only opens her eyes when she feels one particularly deep rut of his hips into hers that sends her body into the wall painfully. Bill comes inside of her without so much as a sound other than a barely audible groan that only reaches the back of his throat. His world goes still, his body following in suit, as that same unreachable peak overwhelms him and he becomes undone.

The entire time he comes, Y/N watches every movement and facial expression he makes, her vision starting to clear again since the high is slowly wearing down. She only stops watching him when his head moves forward to rest against her own. Most of the time, she's the one who finishes first. It's always been that way with the exception of a few times when he was simply too worked up to hold back, but he always makes sure to get her to climax before he does. With him, making sure his girlfriend is satisfied is the top priority of sex and so it's no surprise that the same that usually happens happened tonight. But other than that? Nothing about this was normal, nothing about this was their typical sex because today, they made each other see stars.

They're both tired out of their minds by the time he's calmed down enough to open his eyes and level out his breathing, but the sudden onset of worry wakes him up.

"Are you alright?" Bill asks softly and carefully starts to back up from the wall with her still cradled against him, "I'm not sure if I w-was gentle enough."

"I'm alright. Tired, but alright...thank you."

The feeling of his skin, as smooth and soft as moon white silk, is like a pillow against her cheek when she moves to rest her head on his shoulder. He frowns at the answer. He hates that word. She uses it so much; alright. The worry that runs through him is wild, unchained. After all, as she'd said it earlier, he likes to fuss. And he can tell from the way she slumps against his body on the walk from the living room to the bathroom down the hall, that she truly is exhausted in every sense of the word to the point where he fears putting her down to stand on her own. Her body is loose, muscles all relaxed at an unnatural level, and her core is almost tingling with sensitivity in the aftermath of such a day. Six orgasms. That's all that needs to be said as explanation for her current state.

The moment he switches on the light to their bathroom and she realizes where they are, she wiggles to get out of his grasp.

"Bill, I'll be okay to wash myself on my own,"   
Y/N muses, leaving his arms.

But the moment her feet hit the ground, her legs tremble uncontrollably with the effort of trying to keep herself up and he has to reach out to help her keep steady.

"I know you could if you wanted to, but I'd like to h-help," He says and guides her back to sit on the closed toilet lit, his voice is softer as he kneels before her, "Let me take care of you," His fingertips brush idle circles on her knees, "That's the deal here, you ask me to get r-rough with you and afterward I make sure you're taken care of. You can't even stand on your own right now...A-Ah-After the day you had you shouldn't be doing anything other than resting."

Her hands fall over his and squeeze lightly. They always help each other out like this. There have been more than a few occasions when Bill has been to tired and worn out to do anything other than pass out and she's had to take care of him. And despite the fact that he loves his independence, similarly to her, he lets her. Because the secret is, though she pokes fun at him for it, she fusses over him just as much as he does for her.

So, she lets him run a hot bath, just the temperature he remembers as her favorite and lays between his legs, her back to his chest, as he gently, ever so gently, washes her down and presses kisses into her skin. He doesn't argue when she tells him to switch with her and does the exact same for him. If he's being honest, he loves this part nearly more than the sex. He loves the care in which they treat each other, adores the affection and love. The way that she holds him like he's the most valuable thing in the world to her and presses kisses to his lips as she lathers him up with soap, makes his heart break in the best of ways. All he can think as he holds her in his lap, his mouth pressed to her hair and his hands rubbing down her back to soothe the ache he'd caused in pushing her against that wall repeatedly is; _I love her, I love her, I love her._

And once he lifts her from the bathtub and takes his time in dressing her in the comfiest clothes of his he could find, he rubs lotion on her back from beneath the loose shirt of his she sports and soothes any aches she has from the day of constant sex. She'd be lying if she didn't say she loves the man with every piece of her heart. She'd be lying if she said she didn't like that he fusses over her and takes such care with her. So she tells him as much, softly, vulnerably. And he nods, telling her that he knows she appreciates it, that he'd know even if she didn't say a word, and tells her just how much he loves her in return. (An immeasurable amount.)

Bill and Y/N live for these kinds of days. Where nothing else but their love has to matter and they spend the entirety of the day worshipping the other's body and soul like religion. He sets her down in their bed and crawls under the covers, savoring the warmth and comfort that being beside her gives him as they both drift into a heavy sleep.

Bill and Y/N live for these kinds of days.


End file.
